


Raven-Offering

by OtherCat



Series: OtherCat's Snippets and Incomplete Fic [8]
Category: Kuroshitsuji (Black Butler)
Genre: Abuse-Aftermath, Angst, Dark, Drama, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2010-01-26
Updated: 2010-02-06
Packaged: 2017-10-07 15:21:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/66428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OtherCat/pseuds/OtherCat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which a tenuous comparison is made between Odin, and a certain Earl Phantomhive.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. God of Prisoners

**Author's Note:**

> Part of an intended sequence. The title for the fic and each chapter is a kenning name for Odin. Each kenning is a prompt. I picked nine of them. (Names are snagged from Wikipedia) I blame ravens, eyepatches and bad Latin for this sequence.

Later, he will know only because he is told, that he had been missing for a month. He will know only because he is told, that he had been deathly sick from an infection and a disease that is not mentioned in polite society. He will know only because he is told these things by a smiling raven with red eyes and a smile like a sharp knife. He will know he owes his health, his life, his soul to a red-eyed shadow he accidentally summoned.

He will know all of this, and he will not care.

But now there is only now, masks and horribly smiling faces. (He doesn't know why they bother with masks, but later he will. Much later he will.) Now is an endless space between one scream and the next, between one unanswered plea and terrified, desperate apologies. (It must be his fault, bad things only happen to bad people after all, it's what a child thinks is true, and it's a lie, lie, lie.) Now is a blazing brand and laughter and cages and mindless rocking, rocking, rocking against the bars. Now is where the world dies, and hope is swallowed whole, and there is no god.

And there is hate. There is rage. There is terror and disgust and shame. There is a deep and overwhelming desire for justice, for revenge. For an eye for and eye and a tooth for a tooth. He wants so badly for revenge, he hates so intensely the smiling masked faces who are doing this to him, and he hates himself even more. He hates his weakness and the body that houses his spirit. He hates the world and everything thing in it.

And here is a ritual, or perhaps only the trappings of a ritual. It might only be a game, a game of make believe the masked figures are playing. (It was only a game, we were only joking, we didn't mean to do it. These are the lies that children tell.) There are words spoken, and four points named and four guardians appointed to those points. Earth, fire, water, air. North, West, East, South.

But they are only playing. This is their entertainment. They do not see the sharp edges of the circle, or see where it begins and ends. They do not see the four points blazing in the waiting and expectant dark. They do not see what is plainly visible to him, things that possess more reality than the pain they are inflicting.

And he is in the center on a slab, and it might only be a game, but he is the center of the circle and the circle is real. The circle is the universe in miniature and it surprises him how easy it is to take possession of it. And there is a door asking to be opened at the edge of his awareness, a mystery behind the door, silent and expectant. It is ancient and cold and it smiles like a knife, and it's hungry enough to swallow the sun and the moon. It's hungry enough to swallow him whole.

And he doesn't care.

The knife flashes upward.

The knife comes down.

He breaks the circle.

He is dying, and he is the door and something is coming through. There is fire in the circle, there is ice and the howling of the wind, the four points of the circle fall and the circle shatters and there is silence. The frozen terrified silence of a mouse who senses the owl flying over head. The quick-beating terror of the rabbit. (He is the only one not afraid.) Something is stepping over the threshold, and something is moving through the broken circle. (The circle he broke.) Something is smiling like a knife, nudging the dazed and confused figures out of its way.

It is almost almost gentle as it pushes by, and very amused. The darkness is laughing at them, at the foolish children who were only playing silly children's games. It invites him to join in the laughter, in its amusement, because this is still an accident. (I didn't mean to do it, but I'm glad, I'm glad, I'm glad it happened.) This is an accident, and this is deeply and richly amusing to the demon. He looks up at a smile like a knife, and he'd laugh if he could at the raven's silent witticism.

The sacrifice has sacrificed himself to the darkness that bends over him, offering a contract, and asking for a name and an order.


	2. The Found

"How is it you're able to walk on holy ground?"

"How is that _you_ are, Young Master?"

Church, Sebastian decided later, was probably a mistake. It hadn't seemed so at first, after all, even a "wicked noble" had a societal expectation to show up at least one Sunday out of the month. It seemed neccessary that Ciel make a public appearance, now that he had recovered from _that day_ and attending a church service was a socially acceptable and convenient way of doing so.

Ciel went through the motions of participating in the service, and everything seemed to go smoothly--until the homily. The homily involved the parable of the lost sheep that is sought after by the shepherd, and brought back to the fold. The homily was evidently intended for Ciel, with the implication that he had been such a lost lamb--who was now found. This was a very badly chosen parable.

(It was almost funny. The sermon was so well meaning, so earnest, but fell on ears that would rather be deaf than hear it.)

First Ciel went very still, then his hands clenched into fists. He first turned red, then went very pale. His mouth was a flat line, and his face was blank as a doll's. The only reason Ciel did not stand and walk out of the church was because Sebastian caught him by the elbow. Ciel froze at the touch, shivering under Sebastian's hand. "Don't, young master," Sebastian said in an undertone . "If you truly wish to leave, feign illness or sleepiness and I will remove you."

Sebastian watched the boy carefully, and didn't remove his hand until Ciel's color returned. Another breath, then two went by, and the boy slowly relaxed against him, then jerked upright. The very image of a tired child trying to stay awake. After he had done it a second time, Sebastian rose and picked Ciel up, making apologies and excuses as he made his way to the exit. Murmurs and whispers followed their passage, sympathetic or questioning--and a great deal of gossip. Ciel had a tight, white-knuckled grip on Sebastian's lapel despite his somnolent pose, the only sign of his reaction to both.

Ciel continued the charade until he'd been placed inside the carriage, and Sebastian and joined him inside. Then he sat up straight, and was silent for most of the trip, staring out the carriage window, but seeing nothing. Images from _that day_ were flickering behind the darkness in the boy's eyes. When he did speak, his voice was barely a whisper. "It's almost funny," the boy said finally.

"Young Master?" Sebastian asked.

"To be compared to mutton. 'Lamb of God,' for instance. A congregation is a 'flock', on Judgement Day the sheep will be divided from the goats, and so on. It's almost funny, considering," Ciel said with an ugly smile.

"Because you were found by the wolf instead of the shepherd?" Sebastian guessed. The smile sharpened--and Sebastian knew he'd missed the mark somewhat.

(It delighted him in so many ways that the boy was so very intelligent. His Young Master surprised him sometimes, and that was also a delight.)

"I assume that shepherds eat mutton," Ciel said. "And the ancient Hebrews offered animal sacrifices to the Lord. Does it matter who found me, if I'm a sacrificial lamb?" It was the closest he'd come yet to openly referring to what had happened on _that day_. It was also an even more blatant statement that Ciel understood the price he was paying for his vengeance.

(It delighted him that the boy was so willing to pay. Would this willingness continue to the very end? Should he foster it? Discourage it? There were so many possibilities.)

"I see your point, Young Master," Sebastian said with a slight smile. "Most people would still prefer the shepherd to the wolf, however."

"But you're the one who came to me--I know that you will always find me, and that's enough for me," Ciel said, and in a completely different tone said, "you _will_ always find me."

"That is one order you never have to give," Sebastian said. "I will always find you--we have an unbreakable bond."

"Good."

&lt;!-- end story --&gt;

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ciel is obviously in with the goats.


End file.
